Of Fire and Roses
by Anti-Logic
Summary: But this was different. That place had been all gentle waves and currents, always intermingling and flowing. This was a world of fire and roses. BxK: You know you want to try it.
1. Chapter 1

**'Ello and welcome to my little world! This is a two-shot, possibly three if I'm inspired. The pairing, in case you can't read very well, is Bartimaeus x Kitty, because there needs to be way more of those out there. So...be inspired, fellow authors and authoresses! Write BartyKitty!**

**Okay, on to business then. The time period for this is set a year or so after the last book, at which point the characters are sufficiently healed about Nathaniel's death and Kitty is done with the traveling that she mentioned. And now for the disclaimer:**

**Bartimaeus: -reads from script- The all-powerful (Ha! All-powerful? You?) Twilight Dragoness does not own the Bartimaeus Trilogy (as if she could own something so perfect-and-almighty-yet-humble-and-surprisingly-benevolent as myself) or the tango. -pause- Wait a minute. The...tango...?**

**Twilight: -shoves Bartimaeus into story- Ah...yes, you heard that right. I have gone temporarily insane and incorporated the tango into our little tale. So sue me.

* * *

**

Another half-turn, the red dress spinning around her amidst a world of color, light, and sound, a living fire breathing through her lungs, flowing in her every moment, gleaming in her eyes, as well as in the eyes of her partner.

_How did this happen…? This wasn't according to plan…_

Soon her thoughts were swept away once more in a rush of quick steps and a feeling of immersion into something totally unreal – not that that was anything new. But this was different. _That_ place had been all gentle waves and currents, always intermingling and flowing.

This was a world of fire and roses.

* * *

So here I was, just minding my own business, at home in the Other Place. (1) I got the leisure of doing this a bit more lately; for some strange reason, the British government seemed to think that I was dead. Such a pity. But as I was saying, I was just enjoying myself, at peace with everything etc. etc., when what should I feel but a summons? If you haven't figured it out by now, (2) I don't particularly enjoy this sensation. It's like having fishhooks digging into your back and pulling you off to eternal torment. And I use "fishhooks" in the loosest possible sense. Grappling hooks may be a more adequate description. 

Eh, even if the British thought I was dead, that didn't mean that the others were informed. And while there were strides being taken on the human side of things to tone down the slavery of greater beings, freedom was still a long ways off. Notice that I never said "great strides." But I suppose I owe the progress, minimal as it is, to a certain kitten, now don't I?

On to the summons business. Mmm…I was getting bored with my usual bag of tricks. Very bored. Sure, Ptolemy's great. In fact, he's still my most comfortable form. But as for scaring off inexperienced humans, a somewhat scrawny Egyptian boy never really did the trick. Maybe…naw. If Ptolemy wouldn't work, _he_ definitely wouldn't. (3) I didn't have much time left, and I still hadn't figured out what I wanted. I decided, rather reluctantly, on an innocent-looking cherub. Classy, if not overtly frightening. Believe it or not, sometimes magicians were more scared of heavenly things then denizens of the Other Place. I'd say it was guilt if I didn't know any better. Unfortunately, I do.

I materialized with a refreshing scent with a bit of a questionable undertone to accompany me along with a few unfurling clouds along the edges of the pentacle. I added a few strains of harp music, just for the heck of it. Hey, if I was going with the idea, it might as well be cheesy. Just as I was about to open my oh-so-innocent sapphire eyes, the effect was completely ruined. Ruined by what, you may ask? Oh, nothing. Just a human girl laughing at me until she was almost doubled over. Speaking of that certain kitten…

* * *

(1): Well, I can't really mind my own business there, as you should know, seeing as we're all one. But that would make it my own business, wouldn't it, if I was the same as them and they were…oh, forget it. Your feeble human mind must be spinning. 

(2): If you haven't, then you're even slower than your species' average, and trust me, that's _slow._

(3): Well, maybe they would be so terrified of the awful wardrobe that…oh, who am I kidding? Those clothes really only seemed to be _my_ darkest fear. The boy in them? He didn't seem so bad. Eventually.

* * *

"I-I'm sorry, Bartimaeus," Kitty managed between fits of laughter. "It's just…you as an angel…" 

"It's called _irony_," the djinni responded testily. "I was getting bored." He took on Ptolemy's form rather quickly. "So, what is it this time?"

Kitty finally regained control of her breathing.

"What, I can't see you just because?"

"Well, you always seem to need a favor when you do…"

"Only because I've felt guilty ever since you told me what the summons felt like."

"Yeah, well. Better seeing you at the other end than some stuck-up magician."

"Good to see you too."

Kitty stepped out of her circle readily in order to greet him properly. She never felt comfortable talking while in the pentacles; it put her in the unfair position of "master" once again. The djinni quickly did the same.

"Hey," he smirked, "Getting my essence ripped across a void between dimensions is _always_ worth seeing you."

"Why Bartimaeus, is that sarcasm?" she asked, playing along as usual. It really was only traditional. They both knew that the djinni, reluctant though he may seem, actually meant what he said.

"Sarcasm? Me? Of _course_ not. By the way, your face has gotten _so_ much better since last time." Kitty scowled, going so far as to give him a playful shove, before thoughtfully fingering the lingering wrinkles that he was referring to. It was true, they had lessened extremely since the…incident, and she had dyed her hair back to its original color. In fact, she had even regained much of her energy as time had progressed. But her true age was still difficult to gauge, and she was often overcome with fatigue at very inconvenient times.

Motioning for him to wait, she went to her desk and began rummaging around while the djinni looked on.

"Nice place you got here."

"You said that last time."

"And it's still nice."

She rolled her eyes. "The government likes me, even if I don't particularly like it. At least the commoners have a say in things now. Things are looking up. Huh, I could've sworn I put it right here…" She began to look through the desk drawer.

"Is there privacy? I would hate to be…_rediscovered_." She could almost sense his involuntary shudder at the last word.

"You're paranoid. The privacy itself is what allowed me to find out that you were still alive. I wouldn't be stupid enough to try summoning you in a public place."

"Well, London _is_ the magical capitol of the world. A huge amount of summonings used to come for me from here. If you were in my position for all those years, you wouldn't want to risk starting them up again either."

"I suppose not…Oh, here it is!" She triumphantly held up a very important-looking envelope, complete with intricate seal (now broken) and very spidery handwriting on the front.

"Why, it's an envelope."

"Well, yeah. But it's what's inside that counts."

"That sounds like some sappy novel…"

"Inside the _envelope_, stupid."

"There's a sappy novel in the envelope?"

"No! There's an invitation…"

"Oh, really? You finally get a date? Congrats!"

"No, it's an invitation to a ballroom dance – "

"Well, that's clichéd. I would think that you'd pick a more original boyfriend. I wouldn't be surprised if he was the one writing the sappy novel."

"There is no sappy novel!"

"Then why are we still discussing this?"

"…"

"…"

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"I try."

Kitty gave an exaggerated sigh, doing her best to hide her smile. She noticed that Bartimaeus was still peering at the envelope, and removed its contents, shoving them in front of his face with a carefully-placed scowl. "There. See? No sappy romance novel or whatever. And this is definitely no invitation from a _boyfriend_. In fact, it's from a very important minister."

"And this involves me because…?"

"Because I suspect this minister of treason. No one seems to believe me, but I think that he's ignoring the regulations on summoning, and something worse is probably to come." The djinni, studying the invitation, looked thoughtful.  
"That would make sense, London being at a pivotal moment and all. Hey, wait a minute…this isn't even addressed to you."

"Well, no. It's addressed to a Mr. Clyde Walker in Greenwich, in fact. Mr. Walker is a young politician who usually goes unnoticed by the mainstream magicians because he doesn't live in the 'magic capitol of the world,' which he is somehow able to use to his advantages, according to my sources, don't ask me how. The other guests include-"

"Wait, wait, wait. What sources?"

Kitty gave a little smile. She had spent a bit of time perfecting the look, and it had the ability to send chills down the spine of quite a few grown men.

"I have connections."

"Sure, be vague about it, why don't you."

"As I was _saying,_ other guests include notable figures from throughout the country, as well as a few others from the continent. In short, the upper crust. But none of the other ministers are invited, and none of them are going to complain. Why? Because it's a ballroom _dance, _and it's meant to be taken literally. Only dancers. Mr. Walker happens to be a rising star in that area."

"Wait, _what?"_

"You heard me. Dancers only."

"I'm starting to get the feeling that I don't wanna know why this involves me."

"No, you probably don't."

"Well in that case, what do you say we go see one of those plays? I'm sure we could think up better things to throw at the actors than popcorn."

"I would, if I weren't protecting national security."

"Since when did you care?"

"Since things started going decently for the commoners."

"Okay, I'll just go by myself."

"You do that. I'm not your master, after all."

"Right." A pause followed as Bartimaeus eyed Kitty warily, who was innocently studying the return address on the envelope. He gave a weary sigh.

"Out of curiosity's sake…what exactly were you going to have me do?"

* * *

Well, this is annoying. Dragged out of my natural habitat only to be part of yet another attempt to unravel a political plot. Just like old times. And just like old times, Bartimaeus of Uruk, the Serpent of the Silver Plumes, would have to play the hero once more. There were only two differences now. First of all, no one was forcing me. Kitty made it clear that it was my choice entirely. But the thing is, I knew that what _she_ wanted was for me to go along with it. And I think that _I_ made it clear a couple of years back that ever since _she_ came to _my_ world instead of the other way around, what Kitty says goes. Sure, she may not be actually forcing me, but I was stuck with it anyway. Only difference was that I was almost _glad_ to do something to help.(1) Sometimes I don't even think I know me. 

The other difference was in the nature of the mission itself. No daring midnight exploits or desperate escape attempts or even displaying my acrobatic abilities on the rooftops, oh no. This time I was going incognito – as a certain Mr. Clyde Walker. A bit of a letdown, really.

"You know this is ridiculous, right?"

"Bartimaeus, it's not ridiculous, it's necessary!"

"And things that are necessary can't be ridiculous?"

"Aha! So you admit that it's necessary."

"Wait, what? I never said…but…"

"Let's get started, then. We've got a lot of ground to cover."

I heaved an over-dramatic sigh.

"Woe is me! To be a slave to the whim of-"

"You know that's not going to work. I'm not forcing you to do anything. Now do you know how or not?"

"It's not the knowledge, it's the principle of the thing – "

"Oh, suck it up."

The sad thing is, I knew how to do what she wanted to learn. It was hard not to pick it up after all those years serving royalty. That's right – the mighty Bartimaeus, who spoke with Solomon, who rebuilt the walls of Prague, etc., etc…was giving a dance lesson. (2) The girl's logic can be so twisted sometimes. According to her, only I could be Walker because of her quote-unquote "inability to shape shift." Big deal. And of course, she wanted to be there to expose the plot itself, and Walker needed a dance partner, so…

Only problem is, as quick as she can be, Kitty's got two left feet when it comes to dancing. I, of course, being nimble in body and mind, find it quite simple. But teaching her is quite another matter. Any innocent passersby may have heard this incredibly intellectually stimulating conversation:

"Ouch, you're stepping on my essence!"

"Where?"

"Where do you think? The foot!"

"Then why didn't you say so?"

"Because it's not really a foot."

"Oh, like I can tell where you mean by you just saying 'essence.' Maybe it's news to you, but you're _completely composed of it_."

And then, two hours or so later:

"Oh, wait…you mean _this _one is the waltz?"

"The one we've been doing for the past _hour?_ Yes, Kitty, _this_ is the waltz," was the suave reply, the noble djinni's teeth clenching in spite of his brave attempt to restrain it. Said innocent passersby may have heard quite a few more interesting tidbits, not many of which merit recording(3), and may have found themselves dangerously near a few rogue objects that seemed to find their way out of the window at high velocity. I wonder if the real Walker will think himself snubbed that he didn't receive an invitation.

* * *

(1) Hey. If you think about it, as sappy as it sounds, it makes sense. It's not possible for you to comprehend what her actions implicated. 

(2) And I'd appreciate it if you kept that interesting little tidbit to yourself. I _mean_ it.

(3) Not whatsoever. Plus, the rating would have to go up if they were.

* * *

**Right. And now for the review pimping. REVIEW! It doesn't take too long to press that little button that's practically calling your name. Can't you hear it? "Pick me! Pick me!"**


	2. Chapter 2

**Finally, it's up! Sorry, sorry, and sorry again; I'm so lazy it's not even funny. It turns out that there will be three chapters to this after all. Think of it as a trilogy…kinda (Sweat drop). Also, I'm feeling a bit rusty on the facts of the book. For some reason, I feel as if cameras shouldn't exist there, so feel free to point that out to me if it's true. I'm not exactly…happy with this chapter, but you've definitely waited long enough for it.**

**And don't worry; the real romance starts in chapter three, which will be posted much sooner than this one was. I'll have a frequently-updated progress report on my profile. If I'm taking too long, PM me. If I take too long after that, beat me over the head with your keyboard. Seriously.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Bartimaeus Trilogy, only random, pathetic attempts at names invented on the spot for unimportant characters. **

* * *

The tranquil stars shone above glittering strings of light blinking like fireflies from the garden. The delicate scent of roses mingled with the sound of trickling fountain water and, from inside, the clinking of champagne glasses and murmur of light conversation. (1) 

Not that the magicians noticed any of this of course. No, they were far more concerned with making a good impression, arriving in style and with as much attention-drawing, gaudy flash as possible. Kitty and I pulled up in our rented limo on time, much to our disgrace. We were forced to instruct the driver to park around the corner and wait for the more "fashionably late" party guests to show up so that we wouldn't be the only ones there. Typical.

As we got out, I once again protested the degradation of my noble state to such a humiliating-

"Shut _up _already. The limo's gone, so if you're thinking of leaving me here, forget it."

"I didn't like the driver anyway. Kept giving me weird looks."

"You started poking your head up through the sunroof and making faces at people on the streets! Not exactly minister-level behavior, _Clyde." _

This was her none-too-gentle reminder that I needed to act the part. We made our way with the flow of gossiping new arrivals to the front entrance; I followed their example and linked my arm with hers.

"Who says Walker can't have a little fun?" I grumbled. Kitty had showed me a picture, and I had done my best to replicate him. Of course, I had to guess for the entire back of his body, but hopefully I did all right, or at least well enough to stand up to scrutiny. Not a lot of humans I've come in contact with have spent a lot of time examining the back of their party guests' heads. Kitty, on the other hand, was wearing a dress. (2) It was red, with…eh, why am I bothering to describe it? It was a nice dress, much better than the get-up of the other humans in the area, that's all you need to know. None of you absorb detail well anyway.

"Walker says so," Kitty retorted through a forced smile directed towards the guards at the entrance. "He takes his dancing very seriously."

"Pfft."

"Oh, just give them your invitation."

I did so with an overdone flourish that I'm sure Walker himself would have taken pride in, although Kitty didn't think it was amusing. Her smile became rather frightening after that, and I'm still debating over whether the guard gave us our second strange look of the night because of the flourish or the fact that Walker's partner looked ready to murder him. Nevertheless, we were admitted without delay and began our epic quest to Mingle and Look Natural.

* * *

(1) I'm telling you all this to set the tone of this chapter; I'm not actually enchanted by all of this romanticism, of course. C'mon, I'm not going _that _soft. 

(2) No, this is not as obvious as it sounds. I had almost expected Kitty to wear a pair of dress slacks for the occasion – or jeans. She seemed mildly amused by my low opinion of her sense of classic dress.

* * *

Kitty sipped calmly from her glass, eyes closed in an attempt to regain her composure. She trusted Bartimaeus completely, enough to let go of everything she held as _sane _to come to the Other Place, but his antics made her on edge at a time like this. She was amazed by the fact that although he had probably been around as long as the earth itself in some form or another, he could still act so careless. She knew from experience that he knew what he was doing, however, and had to simply resign herself to trusting him once more. 

She opened her eyes to see said djinn leaning on the elaborate refreshment table, peering at her with an odd expression on his face.

"Something wrong?" she asked, markedly calmer than before. He blinked suddenly and shook his head vigorously.

"Uh…nothing. You just look…it's weird seeing you in a dress."

"Was that bordering on a complement?"

"Hmm…let me rephrase. You look weird in a dress."

"_Thanks._"

"Any time."

Kitty was wearing a red dress with straps crossing in a complex pattern down her back, the skirt slightly longer in back than in front. She had chosen it mainly because it was the most comfortable, having no sign of the trend of sparkles or feathers that the fashionable companions of the elite seemed to be so enthralled with. The fabric was silky-soft as well, and the length was just right to avoid tripping any more than she would already. She was growing fond of it despite herself. The elegant hair twist at the base of her neck sparkling with tiny gems (she had to act the part after all) probably increased the difficulty of guessing her age. People had recently assumed anywhere from mid-twenties to forties, and one older man seemed to have thought that she was fifty-plus, giving by his rather forward behavior. That particular incident had been on a bad day wrinkle-wise. Her recovery was certainly better than she had hoped. Today she was fairly certain was a good day, despite her slight discomfort with her surroundings.

After scanning the crowd for the umpteenth time, she turned back to Bartimaeus, whose mind had apparently been wandering. He gave an ever-so-slight jump under her sudden gaze, snapping to attention.

"You're acting weird," was her graceful observation.

"And you're holding your glass like a commoner," he said with a pointed nod at the offending hand. She scowled and imitated the nearest woman's technique.

"You'd think you'd be use to it now that you've been visiting with the ministers for so long."

"I tend to avoid hanging around for social occasions."

"Too bad. You could have used the dance lessons."

"Shut up."

"What? It's true! You couldn't dance if you were put on a tightrope over a vat of steaming-"

"No, really, shut _up_," she hissed. A man whose face she recognized from the extensive research she had done on the guest list was heading their way, apparently about to approach Walker.

"That's Paul Neway, Governor of-"

"Right. And now we dance."

"What?"

"Would you rather I make pleasant conversation? Catch up on old memories, perhaps?" He steered her carefully but quickly through the crowd. Finding a suitable area, he placed her hands in the correct position for the waltz that was currently being played. Kitty sighed. She had been hoping that she could avoid this.

* * *

Really, how hard is it to master a simple waltz? Just _one_-two-three, ­_one_-two-three, show off with a swoop or two, give a sickeningly sweet smile, pretend that you suddenly had to tie your (tie-less) shoe when you drop your partner (1)…it's basic stuff. But no, to Kitty it was the hardest thing since sliced bread…or something like that. I practically dragged her over the floor for the first few measures, and when she finally got her feet back they weren't exactly in the right places. 

"Essence…" I hissed with a wince.

"Foot," she said firmly back, well-aware that her managing to dance at least decently was the key to completing the mission without suspicion. I pulled her through a sudden twirl to cover up a stumble of hers, noticing bizarrely how well her dress spun due to its loose skirt, and how it complemented the…

Moving on.

We got through the dance without incident, finishing when Governor What's-his-face grew bored waiting for my company and wandered off somewhere – probably to talk to the host of the party, who was currently seated in a grand chair that looked ostentatiously like a throne. I couldn't help the small fit of laughter that followed as I surveyed our suspect's rich dark hair and tiny goatee.

"Y-your minister sure _looks_ the part of the villain. Is he…yes, he's stroking it! Oh, that's gold!"

Kitty was too distracted to notice this ridiculous parody of all that is sinister, instead scanning the servants stationed at ever door as she pulled me in the direction of the restrooms. It was clear that some of them were under orders to stay in each doors' general vicinity without looking really…guard-esque. (2) They wore servant attire, of course, but their second intention was obvious, and it was quite easy to see the defenses rigged on other planes around one particular door, most likely the way down a corridor to his study – exactly where we wanted to go.

At a subtle cue from Kitty, Walker excused himself and, striding casually past the six (3) of the particular door's attending servants, he made his way to the restroom as his partner began to stride in the general direction of the host of the occasion. I knew that she would make a sudden detour to yet another refreshment area, however, where she would continue to Look Natural.

Minutes later, the bathroom exploded.

Well, sort of. I just wanted to see your reaction. It didn't blow up or anything, but there _was_ a sudden flash of light and explosion-like noise that probably did a little damage to the stalls if anything. I understood the need to avoid using suspicious blasts of my own, as Kitty summoning me without the knowledge of the government was technically illegal now, but Kitty's worse-for-wear old Resistance toys sure did lack the effect I could have produced.

* * *

(1) No, really. I've seen this one done. Best ballet I've ever been to. 

(2) The guards, obviously. Not the restrooms.

(3) With six guards for such a normal-looking door (more to make up for the need to cut down on imp use in public), you'd think that something was up, as Kitty was sure there was. Of course, I've seen enough of magicians' ways to understand that it could have easily been simple extravagance. They like to feel special.

* * *

Kitty watched from a distance as all but two of the door guards/servants rushed to see the problem among the startled gasps of the elite and a general backing away from the restroom door. The other two stood resolutely at their posts, looking slightly nervous still. As the door was opened tendrils of smoke made their way out, causing the guards to cough but nothing more. Among frightened murmurs, one turned to the crowd and mumbled vague assurances of simple pranks as the others made their way in, sleeves over mouths, but the guests were not pacified. They were not yet recovered from the Resistance's tactics. 

Soon another guard came out, confidently proclaiming that it was nothing more than someone's idea of a bad joke, that they were perfectly safe, and that they could all go on their merry way. Kitty thought the "merry way" comment was a bit unnecessary. The particular guard, blonde with a young and excited face, briefly called something back to his companions in the restroom before taking his place near the door once more. The guests seemed unsure, but slowly they began to go about their "merry way." It was a distinguishing mark of magicians, she had noticed, this astounding ability to pretend that nothing in the world was wrong under the most adverse circumstances. Luckily for them, the infiltrators weren't their enemies anymore; they simply had something akin to contempt for them. Not too terribly unusual.

She waited until most of the commotion had died down and only two servant guards were away from their posts, one on clean-up duty and the other frantically trying to placate the minister in a distant corner. Another had made motions as if to go speak with the other guards about the issue, but the blonde man had persuaded him to forget about it. Kitty made her way to the servant guards, the blonde in particular.

"Well, it's all settled," she said confidently to the man.

"Really?" he responded, looking like a child offered an early Christmas present. The other guards looked confused, but made no move to interrupt. He grabbed her by the elbow, swiveling her to face them.

"This is Ms. White, a good personal friend of the minister and a...somewhat distant relation of mine. She has been offered a special glance at his study." The guards looked startled and slightly skeptical. Kitty had to admit that the sudden explosion before her appearance was a bit suspicious.

"We aren't authorized-" one began.

"Really?" she cut in, voice icy, drawing herself up to her full height. She had learned a few tricks during her adventures in politics. "I'll have you know that another word like _that _could warrant a loss of your jobs. To think of speaking of a lady of my stature in such a way!" Her tone easily grew more refined and mature as she sunk into her role, playing on the difficulty they were surely having guessing her age. "If you are unsure, you can ask the minister himself." Her eyes glinted dangerously. This was a risky move, but if her research was correct…ah, there was the response she was waiting for. The men glanced uneasily in the direction of their master and the servant he was currently antagonizing, who looked to be on the point of tears. No one seemed to be very eager to do the honors.

"Very well," one man finally asserted, "but I'll escort you along with Stevens."

Ah. So he had a name. Useful.

* * *

Minutes later, Kitty appeared alone in the study, Stevens out of sight and the other guard conveniently unconscious. 

"I was hoping we wouldn't have to do that." Kitty grumbled. "This could blow our cover."

A fly swooped down from the wall, morphing into an Egyptian boy.

"The defenses are disabled, commander," the boy gave a mock salute.

"Good."

"…You're not going to ask me why I was acting so weird as the guard?"

"I figure you know what you're doing."

"Touching. (1) Well, just in case you were wondering, it was because I saw how he acted on my way to the men's room, and the bottle stored in his – whoa, what are you doing?"

Kitty had suddenly reached down and started to pull up her…

"Getting my camera," she said with a glare, detaching it from its band around her thigh.

"Oh…"

"Well where else was I supposed to put it? For some _mysterious_ reason, the minister didn't want cameras on his estate!"

"True…" My essence seemed to have a bit of trouble settling after that for some reason. I kept watch in spider form as Kitty roamed the room, photographing all the evidence we needed. (2)

All was going well when I noticed something highly problematic: two of the guards stumbling down the hall, eyes fixed on the barely-ajar study door, the barely-conscious body of the real Stevens supported between them. I wondered if the grate marks criss-crossing his face from being shoved into the ventilation system hurt much.

* * *

(1) And the sad part is…it actually was. Not a lot of humans trust me that much. I don't really care what a lot of humans think; in fact, I prefer it when most of them don't trust me. But you know, in certain cases…well, I mean there are times when the situation needs…certain people have…Aw, forget it. Too touchy-feely for my taste. 

(2) And was there ever evidence! I'm not going to bore your little mind with the details, but trust me, denizens of the Other Place did not enjoy their stay at the Hotel Minister Whats-his-face.

* * *

**Bartimaeus: Whatever you do, _don't _press the little review button. If you keep your pathetic enjoyment of this ridiculous story to yourself, she won't ever finish it!**

**(Bwahaha...reverse psychology. You are powerless against it.)**


End file.
